Alfendi Plays Dress Up
by Latte the Shipwreck Queen
Summary: "Lucy says she finds a well-dressed man extremely attractive. If you would try dressing nicely for a change, maybe it would speed the development of things between you two along." When Alfendi must find an outfit for a upcoming event at the Scotland Yard, Alfendi and Hilda invite Lucy along. Purely for her professional input, of course.
1. Chapter 1

**Goodness, last time I posted a fic was... four years ago, maybe?  
>I wrote this a few days ago for some of my online friends, and they seemed to like it so I decided to share it here. There is a part two, if anybody wants a part two. If not, then I'll leave it as it is. I'm worried the characters might be slightly OOC, but this is my first real attempt to write MR characters, so I've done my best.<br>Also, I made no attempt to write in Lucy's accent, as I'm sure you can tell. I didn't want to butcher it. If anybody has any advice on how to write a Yorkshire accent, I would be very appreciative.**

**Enough of my jabbering.**

**Constructive Criticism is more than welcome.**

**I obviously don't own Layton Brothers: Mystery Room. **

**Alfendi Plays Dress Up **

"How did you get him to agree to let us pick out his outfit?" Lucy asks, digging out more shirts from the back of her mentor's closet. Hilda doesn't look up from task of rearranging the garments on her ex-boyfriend's bed. She cannot possibly tell Lucy how she persuaded the picky inspector to agree to what would essentially be playing dress-up. She thinks back to a few days ago, when she approached Alfendi about finding proper attire for an upcoming event at the Scotland Yard.

"_No, Hilda! Would you leave me alone you insufferable woman?" Alfendi growls at the blonde standing in his office. They had been arguing for fifteen minutes, and his patience is long gone. Desperate for Alfendi to surrender and equally tired of arguing, Hilda decides to use the last weapon in her arsenal. _

"_Lucy says she finds a well-dressed man extremely attractive. If you would try dressing nicely for a change, maybe it would speed the development of things between you two along." Hilda studies the tall man's face, watching as several emotions flicker across his features in rapid succession. _

"_What on earth were you discussing to with her to warrant her mentioning such a thing?" Alfendi asks, keeping his expression as carefully neutral as possible. Hilda notices he doesn't deny his growing affections for his assistant._

"_Just the usual girl talk is all." Seeing his incredulous glance Hilda continues, "Lucy and I __**do **__talk outside of work. I've grown rather fond of her, and I think her optimism is doing wonders for you. That is why you are going to let us help you pick out formalwear for… whatever that event you mentioned is." Hilda takes a breath, entirely ready for another round of arguing with Alfendi, but instead she is pleasantly surprised to receive no protests from the man in question. Instead, Alfendi looks contemplative, thoughtfully biting his lip -a habit, Hilda noticed, he learned from Lucy- before finally looking up to meet her gaze. He appears calm, but Hilda recognizes the look in his eyes as something __**distinctly **__different from what Lucy liked to call his "Placid Personality."_

"_Hilda, I think this little fashion show of yours could be just __**delightful.**__"_

"Hilda?" Lucy's voice breaks the older woman from her thoughts. She realizes she still hasn't given Lucy an answer.

"Oh! Uh, that's not important Lucy," Hilda breezily deflects. She grins mischievously at Lucy.

"All that matters is that he agreed, no?"

"I suppose." The honey-brunette glances at her suspiciously, but ultimately decides to let it slide. Lucy passes a few more garments to Hilda before joining her by the bed. The two sort through a multitude of shirts, trousers, suits and ties in a variety of colors, fabrics, and styles.

"Who knew the Prof had all this stuff?" Lucy remarks.

"He used to dress this way all the time, before…" Hilda trails off studying a dinner jacket thoughtfully.

"Oh," Lucy says soberly, understanding Hilda's meaning.

"He should start dressing like this again, don't you think so, Lucy?" Before Lucy can respond, Placid appears in the doorway.

"I like the way I dress, thank you. It might not be as fashion-forward as _you _would like, Hilda, but it's comfortable, and that's all that really matters." Alfendi leans against the doorframe, watching the two women sort through his former wardrobe.

"Are you almost finished?" His voice is pleasant, bearing no hint of his growing impatience.

"I should think so. I believe you are probably smart enough to piece together your own outfit," Hilda nods.

"If that's the case, then _why _are you here, exactly?" Alfendi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck exasperatedly.

"To approve whatever you pick out. I said you are capable of putting your own outfit together, but there's still no guarantee it will look presentable. You might still need our help!"

"Alright, fine," the lanky man grumbles, pushing himself off the doorframe, "but get out." He points to the now empty doorway and Hilda and Lucy obediently exit, quietly giggling at his sour command. The two women walk down the hall and take a seat on the couch, waiting for Alfendi to change.

Alfendi, meanwhile, stands in his bedroom, dutifully buttoning up a pale blue dress shirt. As much as Placid dislikes the clothing, he admits that he is curious to know if Hilda's statement is true. Will Lucy find him more attractive if he dresses differently? He supposes he will find out soon enough.

Potty on the other hand, is absolutely certain his change of attire will be the final nail in Lucy's coffin. He already knows she likes him; it's just _how much_ she likes him that he is unsure about. Not that it will matter after today, when he finally renders her speechless.

Placid tries to keep Potty buried, fearing that if left to his own devices, his more volatile side will do something outrageous that will ultimately drive his assistant away, though he acknowledges the likelihood of that happening is slim. After all, she has remained by his side thus far, how much damage could a few more embarrassing incidents possibly do?

With a shake of his head to clear away the thoughts of Lucy that were plaguing his mind -a more frequent occurrence lately than he would care to admit- he hurriedly pulls on a pair of mahogany-colored trousers. He tucks in his shirt, careful not to wrinkle it, and selects a tie at random. Quickly, he knots the length of elegantly patterned material, and shrugs on the matching suit jacket. A brief glance in the mirror determines he's presentable, and at last, Alfendi emerges from his bedroom, striding confidently down the hall.

"How is this?" Alfendi asks, stopping in the center of his living room. He spins slowly, arms outstretched, allowing the girls a view from every angle. The grin drops off his face when he turns back around to face Lucy and Hilda. Neither woman looks particularly impressed.

"Well look at that. You really _do_ need our help," Hilda observes drily.

"Excuse me!" Alfendi scowls at the blonde.

"She's right Prof. I'm no fashion expert, but even I can tell that those colors don't suit you," Lucy speaks up, and Alfendi's jaw nearly drops. This was _not_ the reaction he had been expecting. She was supposed to be shocked and delighted, _swooning_ at his feet, not criticizing the shade of brown he chose!

"Well what do you suggest, then?" Alfendi snaps, no longer Placid.

"Calm down, Prof! It's not that the suit looks _bad_ on you, it's just…" Lucy trails off, unable to describe exactly what was wrong with the outfit.

"-it just doesn't look _good_ on you either." Hilda finishes, earning herself another glare from Alfendi.

"No, wait. It looks better now. I think your suit clashed with purple." Hilda vaguely motions to his now crimson hair.

"Maybe you should try less… brown?" Lucy suggests, prompting the other woman to nod vigorously.

"Precisely! Try something other than brown. Maybe black or grey?"

"If you find brown so _objectionable,_" Alfendi growls, "why did you _pick it?_"

"We couldn't have known it would look terrible on you if you hadn't tried it on," Hilda replies flippantly, as though pointing out the obvious. Alfendi resists the urge to scream in favor of storming back down the hall.

"Black, grey, or navy! No brown!" Hilda shouts after him, causing Alfendi to slam the door in response. Angrily rubbing at his face, Alfendi casts a despairing look towards the clothing spread out on his bed. This was not how he pictured the day going at all.

'_It's _your_ fault. I wanted no part in this,' _Placid whispers disdainfully from the back of his mind.

'_**Shut up**_,' Potty growls back.

This is going to be harder than he thought.

* * *

><p><strong>(Thoughts?)<br>**


	2. Chapter 2

**I meant to have this chapter up sooner, I really did. Thank you for the wonderful reviews! They made my day. I only hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. I'm still really worried everyone ended up out of character, but this whole story was originally meant to be slightly on the silly-parody side of things, so I'm not overly concerned. It was more for fun than anything else.**

**I will stop rambling now, as I know nobody cares.**

**Onward, to Part 2!**

* * *

><p>"No."<p>

"But what's wrong with it?"

"NO!"

"HILDA!"

"Why on earth do you own that suit? The fit is all wrong. Besides, I thought we said no brown!" Alfendi tries to argue that the double-breasted suit was a present from his uncle, who was considered a rather smart dresser back in the day, but Hilda just shakes her head again.

"I don't care. Take it off." The woman in question makes a shooing gesture with her hands, waving Alfendi away.

What started out as a brilliant plan to impress –and possibly flirt with- the object of his affections had quickly turned into a nightmare. Now, an hour later, the women are still forcing Alfendi to model what feels like every last article of his old professional and formalwear, in every combination they can imagine. The inspector finds it nothing short of _maddening_. Alfendi is extremely tempted to begin shouting at Hilda, but before he can, Lucy rises from her seat on the couch.

"I'll go make us some tea. Steady on, Prof. I'm sure we've almost found it. Just need to keep looking is all." The petite woman smiles, and slips past him into the kitchen.

"I'm beginning to suspect that you were wrong, Hilda," Alfendi mutters once Lucy is out of earshot.

"About what?" He waits a few moments before answering.

"You said you thought things would be different if I dressed nicely, but she has not reacted positively even _once_ throughout this entire ordeal," Alfendi huffs, a little embarrassed by his admission.

"Of course she hasn't! Everything you've tried on so far has been atrocious!"

"Face it Hilda," he slumps down in an armchair facing the couch, "the reason nothing fits is because nothing suits _both_ of us. What flatters _me_ clashes with his hair, and what looks good on _him_ doesn't seem to fit me. We don't have similar styles because we are _too different_. I'm just going to tell them that I can't go to the party. I don't care anymore at this point." Alfendi dismally scrubs at his face, his features laden with dismay. Hilda watches quietly, suddenly feeling overwhelming sympathy for him. In that moment, she realizes that he is concerned with more than just finding an outfit. Ever since his "other" personality first surfaced, he had been in a perpetual identity crisis.

"I'm sure that's not true Alfendi. Surely there must be _something_ the two of you have in common!" Hilda insists vehemently.

"What could we possibly have in common? We can't agree on anything!" Alfendi laments, leaning his head back mournfully. As Hilda searches for a way to respond, the answer suddenly dawns on her when Lucy returns, carefully balancing three steaming mugs in her grasp. She gingerly sets two mugs down on the coffee table before turning around to offer a third to the purple-headed man in the chair. Alfendi lifts his head and accepts the cup from her, mumbling a half-hearted thanks. Hilda smiles slightly at the exchange and realizes something.

"You two _do_ have something in common," she whispers, watching as Lucy bends down to Alfendi's eye-level with a supportive smile, patting his shoulder consolingly.

"Lucy," Hilda addresses the concerned detective constable, "I think Alfendi is tired of trying -and failing- to produce a satisfactory ensemble. Would you mind giving it a go? He won't listen to me." It is not _necessarily_ a lie, as Alfendi rarely complies with Hilda's instructions voluntarily, and no doubt he is sick of her bossing him around by now.

"If that's all right with the Prof," Lucy replies, turning to gaze at him quizzically.

"Do what you want," an unnaturally sullen Placid permits with a shrug, leaning his head back against the chair and shutting his eyes.

"All right then," Lucy agrees, drawing herself back to her full height once again. "I'll see what I can do." She disappears down the hall.

"What was that about, Hilda?" Alfendi asks without opening his eyes.

"You say your two selves have no common ground, but you're wrong. Lucy is the one thing that you both can agree on. She understands and cares for both sides of you, so if there's any hope of making the two of you see eye-to-eye, she'll be the one to find it," Hilda explains, causing Alfendi to sit up and stare at her, dumbfounded.

"That was a surprisingly cheesy thing to say, Pertinax. Have you started reading those sappy romance novels again?" Alfendi scoffs, though his derision lacks some of its usual sting. Hilda's flawless complexion stains red at the mention of her guilty pleasure, but she refuses to take the bait.

"Mock me all you like Alfendi, but I honestly believe she is your last hope of bridging the gap between you and your other self and I'm not just talking about your fashion sense," Hilda declares, absolutely serious. Alfendi does not reply, but he does sit a bit straighter, seeming to contemplate her words.

"Hey Prof, I think I've found something that'll work for you!" Lucy says excitedly, emerging from his bedroom a few minutes later. "I found a shirt in your closet we must've over looked before. I left it on your bed with the black trousers and the matching blazer. I think it'll look nice."

"Go try it on Alfendi!" Hilda urges him. "If this doesn't work, we can call it day. This is the last one, okay?" Persuaded by Hilda's promise of a nearing end –and not wanting to disappoint Lucy- Alfendi leaves to go try on what appears to be his final hope.

Alfendi is surprised when his eyes finally come to rest upon a strikingly blue button-down shirt. He remembers it well, as it was a gift from his father many years ago. He would never admit it, but the combination of incredible softness and intense sapphire color made it one of his favorites. A favorite, that he had completely forgotten about after what happened at Forbodium. Suddenly realizing that he had been staring at the old shirt far too long, Alfendi begins to redress for what feels like the thousandth time that day.

Once he finishes changing, Alfendi studies himself in the mirror. With a frown, he discards his chosen tie and decides to worry about adding one later. If they don't like the rest of his outfit, what will a tie matter? As for the rest, well, the current combination of clothing certainly _seems _better than some of the previous attempts, but Hilda demanded perfection. If this one fails, then what? Deciding not to linger on it any longer, he quietly opens his bedroom door, and makes one last trip down his hall-turned-runway. He stops slightly before he fully enters the living room and takes a calming breath.

'_Just once more, and it'll be over,'_ he thinks.

"Let us see it Alfendi," Hilda commands, drawing him further into the room.

Yet again, their reactions are not what he expected.

"Oh, Al…" Hilda breathes softly. She appears both stunned and relieved. Alfendi's eyes drift over to Lucy, and he's not entirely prepared for what he sees. Wide, ruby red eyes are fixated on him, and her mouth forms the tiniest "o" shape. Apparently Lucy is equally surprised. Had he been Potty, he would have laughed at the sight of them, and nonchalantly remarked that this should have been their reaction all along (_**"Yes Lucy, I'm referring to you,"**_). He isn't Potty however, and the mild-mannered Placid suddenly feels inexplicably self-conscious.

He vaguely registers a tingling sensation throughout the bridge of his nose and realizes with a start that it feels hot, and- _**good grief!**_ Is he _blushing?_ Delicately touching his nose confirms that yes, his face is flushed, and that causes him even further embarrassment.

"Well?" He demands, hair quickly assuming the same color scheme as his face. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"You look marvellous," Hilda compliments truthfully.

"Do I?" Alfendi remarks sindely, giving Lucy a sideway glance.

"It's _perfect_," the young woman breathes emphatically, seemingly oblivious to his mortification.

"Hmm, I think I would agree with you." Alfendi attempts to sound smug, but it is obvious that he is still a bit uncertain how to feel about the overwhelming approval he received.

"You should wear that color more often! I mean, I know there's blue in your jumper and all, but this is… different," Lucy smiles a bit bashfully.

"_Thank you, Lucy. I owe this success to you. You were such a big help. I really appreciate everything you've done today," _is probably what Alfendi _should_ say.

He doesn't say that, however, his Potty side -having taken over a few minutes previously- preferring to tease Lucy than be kind to her.

"Do I detect a note of shyness? Why could that be?" Bending down to her level, Potty smirks in all his arrogant glory.

"Do you like what you see, Baker?" As predicted, a flood of pink blooms onto Lucy's face, and she opens and shuts her mouth, presumably still trying to fully process what he said. What he hadn't expected, was the unladylike snort emitted from Hilda, followed by a horrible hacking sound as she chokes on her tea.

"Oh my, did you just-?" A mix of coughing and unsuccessfully subdued laughter prevents her from finishing her sentence. After a few deep breaths, she maintains her calm and asks with a completely straight face, "should I leave the two of you alone?"

She receives two very different answers from the pair, and the look of astonishment Lucy gives Alfendi, coupled with his nonchalant shrug in return, nearly threatens to send Hilda into another fit of laughter.

"Regardless, I need to be going anyway," she announces, breaking the awkward staring contest between the two.

"I'll follow you out, Hilda!" Lucy says, obviously jumping at any excuse to leave before things could get any more uncomfortable. Instead of feeling worried by her reaction, Alfendi simply chuckles and shakes his head as his love interest practically teleports to the door.

"It's settled then. You'll wear that to any formal functions in the foreseeable future," Hilda says, earning a nod from Alfendi.

"Yes," he replies, politely seeing them to the door, hair finally cooled to a pale amethyst color. "Thank you Hilda, I appreciate your help."

"You do _now_, obviously," Hilda responds, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "You looked ready to explode earlier."

"I was, but it's was worth it, in the end."

"I'll bet it was." Hilda grins wryly, but the now Placid man merely blinks, as though he has no idea to what she is referring. He has quite the poker face.

"Later, Al," Hilda smiles, taking her leave once they're all outside.

"Goodbye Hilda," he replies with a small wave. "Lucy, wait a moment, would you?" The young woman reluctantly turns around to face him, probably expecting more teasing.

"Thank you for your help today," Alfendi thanks her genuinely.

"Oh! You're welcome, Prof!" Lucy smiles enthusiastically, back to her usual, bubbly self.

"I mean it, I wouldn't have found anything reasonable without your help."

"I'm glad I could be of assistance."

"Goodbye Lucy," he grins fondly down at her, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Bye Prof," she raises and hand in parting, and begins her trek down the street.

"Baker! You never did answer my question!" Alfendi calls after her.

"Which one?" Lucy calls back, slowing her stride to look at him over her shoulder.

"Do you like what you see?" Alfendi grins wickedly when he sees Lucy falter, and then huff, before stiffly marching away.

"GOODBYE, Prof!" Alfendi grins at her sharp answer and turns to go back inside. Deciding to change his clothes, he walks contentedly back to his room. Upon arrival however, he feels his good mood fade when he witnesses the wreck his room has become. It looks as if his closet vomited onto his bed and floor, and he is going to have to clean it all by himself. Alfendi curses under his breath and flops, face first into a mound of clothing on his bed.

_This __ is what you get for being a jerk, _Placid chides.

_**Shut up… actually no, you're probably right,**_ Potty reluctantly agrees.

* * *

><p>Apparently the lesson on teasing his assistant is not well learned, however, because Lucy is greeted with a wonderfully-terrible surprise the next day.<p>

"Good morning, _Baker_," Prof greets her, and though he uses her last name, he doesn't seem angry. Instead, he sounds smug, and Lucy quickly finds out why. The Prof sits at his desk wearing dark jeans and the gorgeous sapphire blue shirt from yesterday, though this time he lacks a blazer and his collar is unbuttoned, making the shirt more casual.

'_WHY?'_ Lucy thinks in despair, already knowing she would be in store for merciless teasing.

'_Why would he do this to me?' _As though reading her mind, Alfendi smiles, though it's mischievous and not genuine in the least.

"You said I should wear this color more often, so I did."

Lucy can't honestly deny that he looks spectacular, but it's not like she's going to admit it to _him._

It doesn't matter though. He already knows.


End file.
